


You Were Good, Maybe Even the Best

by ImJustAPeach



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Other, memorial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23649658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImJustAPeach/pseuds/ImJustAPeach
Summary: May you rocket jump to the heavens, you crazy bastard.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	You Were Good, Maybe Even the Best

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dedication fic to Team Fortress 2's Soldier's voice actor: Rick May (1940 -2020). May unfortunately passed away yesterday (April 13th, 2020) due to COVID19.

"So. How have you been, Solly?"

The world around you was slowly being painted in oranges, pinks, and of course reds, as it slowly transitioned into dusk. You glance over to your left. The RED Soldier sat with you - your comrade, your friend, your father figure. His red uniform stood even brighter as it was dressed with the sunset's light. His bowl helmet on the ground at his side for a change. His expression stern.

It had been a while since you saw him last. So it was nice to finally catch up. It was a ceasefire day, so you decided seeing your best mate was way to use it.

"Not the talking today? Usually you're shouting orders, old man."

The man stayed silent. You glance back over again with a smile,

"It was my 100th battle last week! I probably didn't kill as many of those damn BLUs as I wanted, but I hope I made you proud. You would have been a mad beast out on that field. Everyone wouldn't have known what hit them!" 

The sky began to grow darker, 

"Oh, I almost forgot! Solly, you missed the craziest thing today. Scout had the nerve to mess with Heavy's mini gun, god damn SASHA in FRONT of him. It was hilarious! He punched out almost all of the kid's blood!" 

You let out a laugh, 

"We had a drinking contest the other day too, of course ol' Tavish won... that bastard and his hardy Scottish liver."

You began to drabble on, rambling about your life at the base over the past couple of months...

How Medic made another freakish experiement out of one of his birds again. How the Engineer made a giant rocket to destroy the BLUs (it didn't work out). How Heavy had been teaching you some Russian, to Soldier's dismay and dislike. How Pyro had been doing better with his pyromania through art. How Scout, other than the Sasha business, he had been helping you train and run faster. How Spy had helped you find information on your family who had gone missing for several years. How Demoman did his best to, kind of, lessen his drinking habits for you. And how Sniper had helped you with your aim and taught you how to hunt.

Everyone was happy and well.  
But...

"Fuck it. I can't lie to you, Doe."

Your laughter died down as the last light left the sky - it now a deep blue with a blanket of stars covering the Arizona skies. Your expression shifted from happiness to a bitter sadness. Your hand reaches over to your left, placing your palm against the helmet between you,

"..You've missed so much."

You felt moisture run down your cheeks as you stood up from the red sand. You were met with the same silence:

"..We've missed you so much."

Your fingertips now gently dragged themselves down the rim of a photograph that was leaned up against a makeshift wooden cross and grave. It was a photo of the Soldier's stern face. His red uniform coat was draped over the top of the cross - blowing in the gentle, rare desert breeze. He was gone. He was always gone.

His respawn had failed.

Lost to his fiercest battle.  
His time was up, but you knew he had run that clock down screaming his battle cry.  
He fought and fought... leaving the rest of you behind.

But despite that empty feeling, you still had all your memories.

That cocky smile.   
His barely seen crazy eyes from under his helmet.  
His obnoxiously loud voice barking orders.   
The frequent drill sargent-like belittling.  
The constant "MAGGOTS!" and "GOD BLESS AMERICA!".  
His rockets flying through the skies.  
His shovel breaking BLU's faces and jaws with a hefty smack.

Good memories.  
Precious memories.

If you listened hard enough, you still could sometimes hear his rockets firing into the sky. You gave your friend a final salute, a smile dressed on your features.

The smile you knew he had loved so much.

"You were good, soldier. Maybe even the best. Rocket jump to heaven, you crazy bastard."

**Author's Note:**

> Rest in peace, May. 
> 
> You will be forever remembered and forever missed by the Team Fortress community and so many more.


End file.
